


dust— a scent of sunshine / and a girl's mouth— of violets

by twoheadedcalf



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Dancing, Drinking, F/F, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, but that part is short, the rest of tm9 appear in the bg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 17:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19977523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoheadedcalf/pseuds/twoheadedcalf
Summary: Beau doesn’t know what was it about today that made Jester change her mind about drinking. Maybe it was the elation of having Yasha back, having Yasha back as herself, entirely loyal to them, and regretful of everything that happened, maybe it was the relief of knowing her mother is still safe and happy in the Menagerie Coast, maybe it was something else entirely - Beau is not the one who’s gonna be questioning her choices. Either way, at every pub they stopped at, Jester made the point to drink (at least) one mug of ale. Beau smells it in her breath, the half-sweet, half-rancid aroma of alcohol. It doesn’t bother her too much.*day one of beaujester week: first kiss.





	dust— a scent of sunshine / and a girl's mouth— of violets

Beau can safely say that bars, and pubs, and taverns, and whatever other similar space; they are all the same. It’s been a while since The Mighty Nein last did a pub crawl (it was never really their thing anyway; from memory, she can only remember Hupperdook, a lifetime ago, and Trostenwald, back when they first met) but even here, back in Assarius, things work much the same. There’s the music, the filthy people, and the barkeep, that begs their clients to not fight and kicks out anyone that does. It reminds her of the places she ran around when she was younger. The Empire and the Dynasty are not different after all; people are the same everywhere.

This tavern is mostly filled with bugbears, gnolls, and the few odd-numbered drows. They are the outliers, as always, but that doesn’t worry Beau, not with the emblems they all carry around their necks, and definitely not today. Not when they finally have time to relax, after running around this whole continent for Ioun knows how long, pulling hairs, searching for answers and only digging up more questions. She refuses to stress: they have Yasha back, Fjord is not being threatened by his patron and for now, their loved ones are safe.

Beau is determined to not stress herself out, but still, she’s the one who’s sat down at their table, nursing another mug of ale, keeping an eye on the exits, and on her friends. It’s not that she’s paranoid, it’s more that she just wants to make sure - there’s always something new to worry about; besides, it’s a habit now, and a healthy one, at that, one that has saved them a lot of trouble, so why ditch it?

From her vantage point, Beau can see Yasha and Nott on the dancefloor, the goblin up on Yasha’s feet to make up for the height difference, the dance steps careful and slow and not at all matching the lively music that’s playing - it isn’t that different from the time Molly danced with Nott, though things were a lot simpler then. Yasha looks incredibly tired and incredibly sad but her hair is filled with flowers and so is Nott’s and they look- content. Calm. She can see Fjord, Caleb and Caduceus close to the bar, all talking: a mish-mash of Caleb’s wild gesticulation, Fjord’s expressive face and Caduceus’ calm... everything.

She can’t see Jester, not at the bar and not on the dancefloor either, no flash of blue where she expects it. Beau cranes her neck to check over the crowd and is about to get up to search for her when there’s a blur of blue hair on her peripheral vision and then the tiefling has her arms around her shoulders, is halfway to hugging her, way too close, her breath heavy against Beau’s face.

Beau doesn’t know what was it about today that made Jester change her mind about drinking. Maybe it was the elation of having Yasha back, having Yasha back as herself, entirely loyal to them, and regretful of everything that happened, maybe it was the relief of knowing her mother is still safe and happy in the Menagerie Coast, maybe it was something else entirely - Beau is not the one who’s gonna be questioning her choices. Either way, at every pub they stopped at, Jester made the point to drink (at least) one mug of ale. Beau smells it in her breath, the half-sweet, half-rancid aroma of alcohol. It doesn’t bother her too much.

It was hard to tell, at first, if it was actually having an effect on the tiefling and how harsh of an effect it was. Jester is always silly, even at the worst times; it’s part of her charm and in that aspect, there was no big difference. The meddling, needling was the same; she’d gotten Caleb to spend an insane amount of time dancing with her and then playfully poked at Fjord for not dancing with the wizard.

It’s clear to Beau now that Jester is drunk, though. She’s gone from silly to _sillaaaaa-ay, hehehe_. And her balance is definitely not as stable as usual, not with the way she’s clinging to Beau to keep upright and rooted to the same spot. She’s smiling, though, wide and not fake at all, so Beau doesn’t begrudge her for it. Maybe she’s a little bit tipsy, too.

“Beeeeeeau.” Jester says, her accent making the name sound so different that it flips Beau’s stomach.

“Yeah, Jessie?” Her arm encircles the tiefling’s waist, her hand light touch on the other’s hip, not that Jester seems to notice or be bothered by it at all.

“Why don’t you ever daaaaaance?” She somehow manages to shake Beau’s shoulders at that, and unsteady both of them, considering that Beau is the one keeping them from falling down. The monk plants her feet more firmly and straightens the two of them up.

“I’m not a very good dancer, Jes. And no one’s ever invited me, so.”

“Dancing isn’t about being good, silly. It’s about having fun!” Jester manages to dislodge herself from Beau and take a step back, even if it’s a little stumbly. She rights herself then does a little half-curtsy at Beau, extending her right hand in Beau’s direction. “Will you dance with me, Beau?”

Beau’s eyebrows rise and her mouth twists down and then up as she tries to stop herself from blurting out something dumb and emotional and not adequate at all. Something that definitely wouldn’t be an answer to Jester’s question. “Yeah, sure.” She says, and takes her hand.

Jester pulls her forward, in a surprisingly straight line towards the dance floor, making space for them by pushing past people and then giggling about it. They stop close to the center of everything, waiting while there’s a lull between the songs. The white noise gives Beau time to get nervous.

“I’ve never done this before, you know, being bad and all so-”

“I’ll lead, then.” She says, and sets Beau’s hand on her shoulder and sets her left hand on Beau’s waist, and laces their right hands. It’s a little off, considering that Beau is several inches taller than Jester, and they’re a bit too close for a proper waltz but there’s no time to worry about that since the music finally starts up again. Also, it’s a little pleasant, maybe.

The song isn’t slow but it isn’t quick either so it’s ideal for the cramped up square of space they’ve been allowed to take up. Jester seems satisfied enough with it, humming along with the singer, and pressing her hand against Beau’s side to guide her. It’s not that hard; she’s quick on he feet and the dance lessons her father forced her to take as a child are finally coming in handy.

She’s not too worried - they are both inebriated. And why should she be worried about this anyway? Right?

“See, Beau? It’s fine.” Jester says midway through the song, since Beau has failed to stumble or step on her toes. Her eyes are very intent on Beau’s face and with anyone else, she’d probably feel the need to hide, to bluster away the conversation. 

She smiles at Jester instead, tight-lipped but no less sincere. “Sure, Jester.”

Jester smiles too, radiant. Then she raises an eyebrow, gets all smarmy. “So…. Will you dance more?”

“Only with you, Jes.”

“Aw, Beau!”

She rises to her tiptoes, arms around Beau’s shoulders, and dragging her down to a lower height in something akin to a hug and it’d work, if she wasn’t so tipsy and if Beau had been prepared for it instead of distracted with the dancing. They stumble and Jester almost tips over a bit before Beau manages to set her hands on the tiefling’s hips and steady her. Jester doesn’t seem fazed, still smiling.

“Well, okay, missy, time to get you to bed, I guess.” She says and starts pulling Jester through the dance floor, towards the edge, one arm around her shoulders and another out in front of her to clear the way.

“But I want to dance with you, Beaaaaau.”

“We can dance later.”

“Really?!”

She manages to catch Caleb’s eyes over the crowd and after making a few hand-wavy motions indicating her then Jester then upstairs, he does an okay sign and turns back to his conversation. 

“Really, Jessie.” She manages to get them to the edge of the dancefloor and then close to the stairs that lead up to their rooms here. There’s not enough space for the both of them climb up side by side which, ugh. Whatever.

She lets Jester goes up first, hovering a step behind her, worried about her falling down.

“Oh, that’s so great, Beau. You should dance more. You should do more things that make you happy.” She’s rambling which is pretty normal for Jester but, well. 

“I _do_ do things that make me happy.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” She says, all haughty, rushing up the last bit of stairs so she can get to the top. She stops there, a bit winded, and turns back, hands on her hips, to frown at Beau. Like this, their height difference is amended. She’s even a bit taller which, alright.

“I don’t know. Drinking.” She says, climbing up the last steps. “Punching things.” _Reading, writing, investigating_ but that’s- that feels more like a consequence to the life they lead than an actual hobby. It doesn’t feel like something that belongs to her, despite how much she likes it.

Jester whines at her, stomps her feet and turns around again to walk down the hall. “That doesn’t count, Beau!”

Beau has to guide her again, considering that Jester has no idea where their room actually is.

Beau huffs a little laugh at Jester. “Oh, it doesn’t?” She says and stops at their door, with Jester in front of her, her body a barrier between the tiefling and the rest of the world.

“No!” Jester says, hussy and just this side of too loud. She calms down when Beau doesn’t respond, focused on fishing the room key from her pocket. She leans back against Beau’s front, hooks her arm around Beau’s neck, close, so close, and stares at her face while Beau fumbles to open the door, trying to make sure she can sustain Jester’s weight.

Beau isn’t very strong and Jester isn’t even trying to keep herself upright, trusting Beau to be there for her.

The door finally opens after Beau spends several moments huffing at it, jangling the keys and the door handle, trying to unjam it. Jester doesn’t unhook her arm from Beau’s neck when she leans in to enter, completely unbalancing the two of them, almost bringing both of them to the ground in a entanglement that surely would have bruised their bodies. Instead, they stagger to the closest bed, the one that hasn’t been made, Beau’s, and fall in a heap, Beau over Jester like a very bony cat.

Jester is giggling, her laugh loud and pleasant like ringing bells, and that brings out a few good-natured chuckles from Beau which only makes Jester giggle harder and they laugh until they are breathless and have to stop.

Beau looks up and Jester is staring at her, eyes bright, and surprisingly focused for someone who’s drunk for the first time in her life, and had been tripping over herself only a few minutes ago.

“You okay, Jes-” She can’t get the sentence out before Jester tightens her grip around Beau’s shoulders and surges up, determined.

Jester’s lips are soft and cold and she tastes faintly of mead but Beau can still catch the sweet undercurrent of pastries and store-bought candy that Jester always carries in her bag. She’s definitely not experienced, her kisses shallow and half-formed, but they are cute, like Jester herself. Beau’s hands spasm around her waist, and one of them draws up to Jester’s jaw, guides her to open her mouth so she can slide in some tongue, and then it’s wet heat, sweet and cloying and pleasant. 

Jester calms down after that, her shoulders relaxing and the kisses become something slow instead of desperate and bruising. Eventually, she sighs dreamily and it’s a sound that echoes loudly in the quiet room. Beau jolts and pulls away, kneels up in bed, stunned. Jester’s hands are mid-air, her eyes open, startled, like it’s dawning on her what just happened.

She kneels up too, quicker than Beau, and entirely too coherent for a drunk. She must be panicking. “Beau, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I just- I like you very much, you are always nice to me and you always listen to me and I care a lot about you- I know you like Yasha but I just thought that I’d- I don’t know, I just-! I’m sor-”

“Jester, calm down!” Beau sets her hands on Jester’s shoulders, shakes her only a little bit. Jester stops talking but her breaths are still too shallow, her head hanging down, her hands curled into tight fists in her lap. Beau stays silent, debates on what to say. She doesn’t want to screw this up - she _can’t_ screw this up. She uncurls Jester’s hands, presses her thumbs to the dents her nails made to the soft skin. “Jester, look. I don’t even like Yasha- I mean, she’s hot but-. I-.”

She takes Jester’s hands in her own. “I care a lot about you too. But you’re very drunk and I don’t know if you really know what you’re talking about.”

Jester raises her head up at that, pouting, blinking her big violet eyes at Beau. “But I do! I _like_ you, Beau.”

Beau feels herself melt at that: her shoulders drop and her face does a funny thing, like it can’t decide between smiling or crying or doing something else entirely. She squeezes Jester’s hands, firm but soft, and get a squeeze in her return. She tries not to smile herself silly at that. “I- Okay, Jes. But can we discuss this in the morning? When you're sober?”

It takes a moment but she nods. “Okay. Will you stay with me, though?”

“I’m right here.”

“No, like, will you sleep with me? Like, lay beside me? Please?” Jester is pouting at her again and her grip on Beau’s hand is strong, resilient. Beau can’t possibly resist her.

“I- Sure. Why not?” 

Jester yips and flops on the bed, bouncing a little bit, patting the spare space beside her. It takes a lot of rearranging but they finally settle after some time, Jester flat on the back and Beau curled around her side like a comma, her face pressed up against Jester’s neck, smelling her lavender perfume.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys!! hope u enjoyed this; it's pretty short and simple but it's sweet so i'm proud of it anyway. thanks for reading!! you can find me at @female-pain on tumblr or @bicalebwidogast on twitter!!


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